


creatures built on heartbreak

by ifthebookdoesntsell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, Finale spoilers, Fix-It, Post-Finale, post 7x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifthebookdoesntsell/pseuds/ifthebookdoesntsell
Summary: Clarke isn’t sure how she got here.Well, she is.They call her selfish, dark, unworthy. Perhaps all of these things are true. In fact, she knows they are.And yet, Clarke knows there’s still something missing. A final test.And when has she ever gone quietly?(Or, the one where Clarke is given one final test, and she gets a shot at being happy with her great love.)
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clexa - Relationship, John Murphy/Emori (smallest mention)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 170





	creatures built on heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all. i don't even really go here anymore, but ADC really said 'you must return' so i watched the finale clips with lexa, cried a bunch, and then had to write something for these canon soulmates. clexa saved 2020. i said what i said. 
> 
> i've loved reading everyone's takes on fix-its and finale moments, and i know i'm a bit late, but i hope you'll still give this a chance. 
> 
> hope y'all enjoy

Clarke isn’t sure how she got here. 

Well, she is. 

They call her selfish, dark, unworthy. Perhaps all of these things are true. In fact, she knows they are. 

And yet, Clarke knows there’s still something missing. A final test. 

And when has she ever gone quietly?

***

She wakes early and alone just as she has for the last seventy years. 

It’s quiet. So, so quiet, and Clarke thinks that she likes this better than the screams she’s heard before at the crashing of night and day. As she stirs, she keeps her eyes shut, almost able to convince herself that the fur wrapped around her is an arm, that the makeshift pillow under her head is the jacket of somebody that loves her. 

Her eyes finally slip open at the sound of laughter. 

_John and Emori._

She swallows hard. She knows what she was trying to convince herself of when she refused to open her eyes. 

Lexa. Polis. It comes flooding back as it always does when the peace feels suffocating. Clarke has never been good at peace. 

Lexa was good at it. Too good. 

Thinking of pretty features is easy, thinking of soft skin and the pattern on Lexa’s spine is easy. What’s not easy is remembering that she and Lexa don’t get their ending. 

There is no someday. 

And no matter how she tries to convince herself that she’s over it, she isn’t, and seeing the Judge take the form of the woman she loved when things were simpler, easier, reopened a raging hole inside Clarke that she thought was mended and plugged. 

She thinks of her lips, of Lexa’s eyes on their final afternoon together. She thinks of Mount Weather. 

_Not everyone. Not you--_

Clarke turns onto her side and tries to plug her ears at the sound of another giggle from Emori, a mumbled flirtation by Murphy. 

Her heart pumps faster; she wants to tell them to pipe down, that it’s early, that if they’re going to live out the rest of their lives and just die off, they may as well finally fucking sleep, Goddammit. 

They’re happy. And Clarke hates herself for thinking it, but she wishes they could be happy just a little bit quieter. 

_Selfish._

She should be glad for them. All of her friends have suffered much-- many times because of her-- she should be at peace knowing that they’re finally free to love. 

Then again, Clarke was never good at peace.

_Selfish._

She turns over once more, and her mind drifts off. 

She dreams of Lexa, and her vision blurs. Missing her is the most difficult test Clarke has ever faced. Her eyes won’t shut, even as exhaustion still creeps its way under her skin. But there’s also something else that won’t allow her to escape. 

She feels watched, feels somebody near-- 

Grabbing the knife under her pillow, Clarke hops up, placing the knife against the person’s throat-- 

“Lexa?” 

***

It is not Lexa. 

She can see that in the coldness of her stance, in the emptiness of green eyes. 

“You have to stop visiting me like this,” Clarke tries to joke, pulling herself back. 

It’s difficult to tear her eyes away from the Judge’s face, from soft lips and dark hair, even though her mind is aware that this is not her Lexa. Her heart doesn’t seem to understand. Her heart is crying out, and for some sick reason, Clarke hopes that the being in front of her-- who supposedly feels everything she feels, knows everything she knows-- can feel her pain. 

_Dark._

“I am sorry,” the Judge says evenly, and Clarke hates how the measured tone reminds her of the woman who meant everything to her. “I was sent.” 

“By?” Clarke asks, unable to keep the disbelief and anger out of her voice. She grabs her t-shirt from the bedside table, suddenly aware of how exposed she is in just a chest wrapping and pants. 

“Your little one.” 

Clarke stops in the middle of pulling on her shoes. 

“Madi?” 

The Judge nods minutely, and in a moment of weakness, Clarke looks at green eyes and finds some kind of hope, though she thinks that may just be her imagination. 

“She believes you deserve another chance.” 

“I thought there were none of those,” Clarke scoffs.

“Not at transcendence,” the Judge corrects. “She believes you deserve to live your days out with a kind of happiness. We know you have not been afforded such things.” 

“I thought I was unworthy.”

The Judge looks her straight in the eye. 

“Our collective thinks so as well. But your child sees you differently.” The Judge starts to fade. “As she is one of us now, she does get some say.” 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Prove us wrong.” 

Clarke stands with one shoe still in hand as the form in front of her disappears. 

_Prove us wrong._

She rolls her eyes. How godly to not give any instructions. 

***

Clarke spends the day mulling the words over by the lake, and, once more, she finds herself with her knife to the throat of the Judge around dinner time. 

“Seriously. I told you not to do that anymore,” Clarke says dryly, moving to sit back down on the beach. 

Surprisingly, the Judge sits down next to her, and Clarke’s heart pounds angrily in her chest at the gesture. 

“You are upset,” the being next to her observes. “Why?” 

Clarke whips her head around. 

“Why am I upset? Maybe it’s because you keep taking the form of the woman I love and then showing up out of nowhere,” she snarks.

“I am sorry, Clarke.” 

“No you’re not,” the blonde mumbles, wiping at her eyes. 

“You are crying.” 

The raw observations remind her of Lexa, and she can’t help but crack a smile. 

“No shit.” 

“Why are you upset over something that happened so long ago?”

Her smile continues to play on her lips, and if she doesn’t think too hard, she can almost convince herself that she isn’t talking to some eternal entity who holds the key to her happiness. 

“You’ve never been in love, have you?” 

The Judge looks at her, almost confused. 

“Some in our transcendence have--” 

“But you yourself,” Clarke interrupts. “The face of all of you. Have you ever been in love? Have you ever known what it is to be willing to kill, to die, to lie for somebody? Do you know what it is to be willing to risk everything?”

_Do you know what it is to have somebody you'd like to reach repentance for? What it is to wish to be absolved of your sins so that you could feel worthy of them?_

_Do you know what it is to have somebody to live for?_

“I am ancient, Clarke,” the Judge says. “There has been nobody to love.” 

For the first time, Clarke feels as though she isn’t being lied to under the guise of a test. 

“That’s terrible,” she replies without thinking, and she’s surprised to see a pleased expression start to spread across not-Lexa’s features. “What?”

“Your heart is good,” the Judge answers. “Madi said so. We did not believe. So much anger. So much fear. So much hurt. But love, too? We did not see that in the test.” 

“That’s being human,” Clarke replies wryly, throwing and skipping stone on the lake, watching the ripples move on the water. 

“You are creatures built on heartbreak.” The Judge sounds almost sad.

“Better than nothing,” Clarke says back, gesturing to the form sat next to her. “I think your existence is really the sad one. At least I had a great love.” 

“Would you like her back?” 

Clarke’s heart stops.

“Excuse me?”

“I have seen that your heart is good,” the Judge clarifies. “You can be afforded happiness, Clarke Griffin.” 

“You’re lying,” Clarke says thickly. “This is another one of your sick tests.” 

“It is not,” the Judge insists. “So tell me, would you like to see her again?”

Clarke looks at green eyes that she recognizes, eyes she’s thought of every day since that fateful afternoon. There’s an honesty in them, and yet, she’s unsure what to think. Part of her wants to say yes, and another part of her thinks of Lexa, her Lexa, what she was taught. She hasn’t been weak in so long. The last time she can remember was being in bed with the woman; it was the last time she felt safe. If this is untrue, if this is a test, Clarke cannot risk opening her heart again. The danger of it maddens her: that feeling of being offered the possibility of heartbreak and for the first time in a long time contemplating taking something without thought. 

It could be horrible. It could be a mistake. This could be what finally breaks her, and yet, the promise of seeing Lexa again already seems to be doing exactly that. She braces herself for a foreign kind of hurt, awaits that sickening feeling of tragedy, and Clarke hasn’t felt so human as now when she nods. 

“I would.” 

The Judge looks at her kindly, and Clarke realizes how easy it all is; knowing she could be broken, but letting it happen anyway. She hasn’t felt this way in so long. So safe. So seen. 

So human.

So worthy. 

“How long would you like her to stay?” 

Clarke hesitates; she does not want to seem selfish when she’s so close to what she has wanted for so long. 

“Just tell me,” the Judge says gently. “I am sorry you did not pass the test, Clarke. Truly. We all are. Let us help you.” 

“I’d like her to stay with me until the end,” Clarke croaks, her heart jumping onto her ribs and dancing. 

“Consider it done.” 

The Judge snaps their fingers, and there’s a blinding light as they fade away. Clarke shields her eyes with both hands, her entire self vibrating with a mixture of fear and disbelief. It feels too good to be true. It’s been so long. 

She continues to squeeze her eyes shut, even as the glow fades, trying to be sure that this isn’t a dream. She pinches herself, counting to ten like her mom taught her and-- 

“Clarke?” 

Her eyes flip open; her heart runs even faster. There’s something different in the voice; it’s warmer, softer-- 

_It’s Lexa. It’s Lexa. It’s Lexa._

Her heart is yelling at her brain, but her mind still can’t comprehend. 

_It’s Lexa. It’s Lexa. It’s Lexa._

_“Ai niron?”_

Clarke’s entire being shivers when the words reach her ears. 

_My love._

Finally, she turns to look. 

“Lexa?” 

“Hi.” 

The simplicity of the reply makes Clarke chuckle, and suddenly, her grin is uncontainable. She takes Lexa in, and somehow, she looks different than the Judge despite their shared form. Lexa is softer, safer, easier to look at. Her edges are rounder, and the gravity of the situation dawns on them both so quickly. 

Clarke bursts into tears first, throwing herself across the space between them and into her lover’s arms, breathing in the warm, pine scent that she’s thought about since the day her world came crashing down. 

“I’m here,” Lexa murmurs, a hand in Clarke’s hair, rubbing at her scalp. “You cut it,” she says. “I like it.” 

It makes Clarke laugh wetly, and she can feel Lexa’s smile against her neck. For a moment, they listen to each other breathe, and everything is easy. Everything is wonderful. 

It feels like they’re young again, but somehow, they’ve been freed of life’s usual weight, of the purpose that was behind every decision they made.

Finally. Finally, they can just be. And yes, maybe they are a little selfish right at this second, but neither of them care. That is being human. 

Lexa kisses the side of Clarke’s head, and Clarke cries harder. It feels like redemption. It feels like falling and chasing and dreaming all at once. 

They pull back and look at each other. The world rights itself on its axis. 

Clarke’s hand reaches out to touch Lexa’s face; she traces her thumb over soft skin, finds home in sweet eyes, and before she can stop herself, she’s reaching over for a kiss. 

Her heart stutters in her chest when their lips touch, and she smiles when she feels Lexa gasp quietly. It’s gentle and perfect, and when Clarke surges forward to deepen it, Lexa actually giggles and Clarke can do nothing but hold her tighter and pin her down against the sand. 

Neither of them know how long they lie there, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s almost as if they’ve transcended in this moment, as though there’s no Judge and no God and no responsibilities. 

Just them. 

And they have all the time in the world. 

Clarke reaches down for another soft kiss, barely thinking about what she’s saying until the words are out of her mouth.

“I love you.” 

She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried; she whispers those three little words against Lexa’s lips. 

The woman freezes beneath her, and Clarke thinks maybe she had it wrong, that maybe she made a terrible mistake. She goes to pull back, to apologize, but then, Lexa is pulling her down for a hug, whispering it back into her neck as many times over as she can and only stops when Clarke silences her with a kiss. 

They continue to say it, to make the most of the second chance they’ve been given. They both lose count of how many times the other says it in that moment; Clarke estimates about sixty two and a third, but it feels like a million. It feels like everything.

***

“I’m glad I got to survive long enough for this,” Clarke mumbles later, once they’re in bed, once night has fallen and they can be alone. “Now we get to live.” 

Lexa nods. 

It feels perfect.

Life is about more than just surviving. 

Finally, they owe nothing more to their people. 

**Author's Note:**

> soo, what did you think? if you'd like, you can let me know down below :)
> 
> i don't know a ton about what happened in seasons 5-7 (I kind of dropped out after it was clear lexa wasn't coming back so i just read the wiki before writing this out this morning lmao) but i wanted to provide some closure 
> 
> as always, i'm @ifthebookdoesntsell on tumblr, and my askbox is always open for anything on your mind 
> 
> be safe x


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